


A Stolen Inheritance

by karatam



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, F/F, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karatam/pseuds/karatam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As their hour together ends, Clarke and Lexa wake to the sight of warriors surrounding them.</p><p>The Nightblood of the Ice Nation is here to claim what is hers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stolen Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if there's any episode that needs a thousand fix-it fics, it's this one.
> 
> Thanks to Kay for the quick beta.

Clarke wakens slowly, the ache of her muscles bringing pleasant memories to mind. The sheets are soft against her mostly naked skin and she takes a moment to wonder where Lexa manages to find fabrics like this. She grew up with rough fabrics on the Ark, stiff and scratchy from the constant reuse and bleach, nothing nearly as luxurious as this bed.

She almost doesn’t want to open her eyes, knowing that their nap means the hour is almost up and she’ll have to cross the border with Octavia. If she can pretend just for a few more minutes that this, waking up beside Lexa with a smooth hand resting on her hip, is how her life could be, then maybe she could carry it with her, tucked in next to her heart in the hard weeks ahead of them.

Earlier, they had both been redressing in preparation for Clarke’s departure when Lexa had paused and almost hesitantly reached out to take Clarke’s hand. At the gentle tug, Clarke had allowed herself to be pulled back to the bed. She had settled on her side and pulled Lexa’s arm to wrap around her waist, closing her eyes at the sensation of Lexa pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. They had laid there, quiet and still until they both drifted off to sleep.

The bed dips slightly as Lexa shifts, and finally Clarke opens her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rare sleeping Lexa, her face relaxed and free from their daily worries. Maybe her makeup will be a little messed up, faint smudges from where her cheek presses into the pillow. Maybe she’ll be smiling, caught up in a dream about what had just passed between them.

What she sees instead makes her jerk upwards, hand reaching automatically to clutch the sheet to her chest, as if the thin fabric could protect her from the five heavily armed Grounders standing by the bed.

The sudden commotion sends everything into a frenzy of movement as the Grounders lunge forward and Lexa startles awake.

Rough hands grab Clarke’s arms, pulling her up and away from the bed. She twists away as hard as she can, but his grip is unyielding. Catching a glimpse over her shoulder of Lexa snapping someone’s wrist back, Clarke locates some bare skin and bites down hard.

There’s a loud hiss of pain and the grip on her arms loosens enough for her to get away momentarily.

“Lexa!” Clarke yells in alarm, watching as a punch to the stomach doubles Lexa over, gasping for breath. Before she can take more than one step in Lexa’s direction, those rough hands are back, grabbing her wrists and twisting them behind her back. She gasps as her shoulder is wrench a little too far, knowing that he might have just done some more permanent damage.

She’s about to jerk her body forward again when there’s another grounder, a woman, holding a knife to Clarke’s throat. Clarke sucks in a surprised breath, freezing when she feels that sharp blade dig into her skin. Her eyes shift to look at the woman and she realizes it’s Ontari, the Nightblood from the Ice Nation.

“ _Leksa, hod yu gunplei op o kot yo niron op_ ,” Ontari orders, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she turns, body positioned so Lexa could see the knife pressed to Clarke’s throat.

“Lexa, don’t!” Clarke gasps out, knowing that if Lexa stops fighting, there’s no way that both of them will get out of this alive.

Lexa has a warrior’s windpipe under her forearm, but when her eyes meet Clarke’s, she releases the pressure and steps away, slowly raising her arms. A sudden punch to the jaw sends her to her knees, black blood starting to trickle from a split lip, dripping onto the floor. A hard kick to the stomach follows and another is about to be delivered when Ontari makes a gesture in the air. The remaining warriors, some with obvious injuries from Lexa’s attacks, reach forward and hold Lexa firmly in place, on her knees looking up at Ontari from the floor.

Ontari lets someone out of Clarke’s eyeline take control of the knife and it digs deeper into her skin as Ontari steps toward Lexa. When a single drop of blood wells up at Clarke’s throat, Lexa’s eyes narrow and she bares her teeth, seemingly not caring that she’s also being held captive.

“You know, I discovered something very interesting lately,” Ontari drawls, crouching down in front of Lexa. “That spirit we always talk about, that spirit that gives you command over the clans?” Ontari smiles, a sharp grin that promises pain. “Turns out, I can take it from you.”

At another quick gesture from Ontari, the man gripping Lexa’s left arm twists his fingers in Lexa’s hair and jerks her head down, exposing the back of her neck. Clarke struggles against her restraints, her injured shoulder protesting violently, because she’s certain she’s about to witness an execution.

Instead, Ontari produces a small blade, almost a scalpel, and presses it carefully to the nape of Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s jaw clenches and her fingers grasp at empty air, fighting against her instinct to lash out.

Then her eyes widen and Lexa starts to scream.

It’s not a sound that Clarke has ever heard before, like there are multiple voices, all familiar but not, layered together. It shocks her captors into loosening their grips just enough that she almost falls forward, scrambling on her hands and knees toward the still screaming Lexa.

Ontari straightens, holding something small and metallic in the air, just as Clarke makes it across the room. Clarke gets her arms around Lexa’s waist, pulling her away from the distracted men and towards the far side of the room, where she knows there’s another exit. Lexa is limp in her arms, eyes shut, tears streaking the kohl down her face.

No one moves toward them, Ontari looking at Lexa with disgust curling her lip. “Leave her here. Let her serve as a reminder that weakness will not be tolerated.”  She sketches a mock bow in Lexa’s direction. “Thank you for this, Lexa. I will do far greater things with it than you ever dreamed.”

With that, she turns for the door, her men following, and then the room is empty but for Clarke holding an unconscious Lexa. Clarke loosens her hold on Lexa, letting her slide fully onto the floor, cushioning her head with a pillow that had landed nearby. She needs to get them out of Lexa’s chambers, and she can’t do it alone.

She runs through the door, across the hall and down the stairs, skidding to a stop in front of her own rooms. She carefully opens the door and slips in, alert for any sign of intruders.

“Clarke?” The sound startles Clarke and she spins around to see Octavia standing there, looking concerned.

“I need your help,” Clarke says, and Octavia’s eyes widen when she notices the black blood covering Clarke’s hands.

 

/ /

 

Lexa’s eyes snap open and she moves to sit up but collapses back onto the cot in pain. In moments, Clarke is there by her side, pressing her back into the pillow.

“You’re okay, Lexa. You’re okay,” Clarke murmurs, stroking her cheek, her forehead, and making soft soothing noises in the back of her throat. “We’re in an out of the way room that Indra knew about. Her and Octavia are standing guard. You’re safe.”

Lexa’s chest is still heaving, pain etched into her face. Clarke, reaching gentle fingers to the back of Lexa’s neck, freezing her movement when Lexa lets out a whimper. “I just need to check the bandage.” Green eyes begin to focus on Clarke’s face. “I’m not sure exactly what they did, but you were out of it and bleeding heavily.”

Lexa nods faintly, reaching up to clasp the hand stroking her temple. “I’m sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke frowns, confused at the sudden apology. “Sorry for what?”

There’s a long pause where Lexa closes her eyes and Clarke begins to worry about the possibility of a concussion.

“I can no longer protect you,” Lexa says, her voice quiet.

“We’ll just need to assign better guards to-“

“No, Clarke.” Lexa takes a deep breath before continuing more forcefully, “I cannot protect you because I am no longer in command.”

“What? Just because Ontari got a few punches in doesn’t mean anything.”

“She has the Spirit, that thing she dug out of my neck. And with it, she is the new Commander.” The statement hangs in the air between them, loaded with implications for the future.

“Then we need to get you out of here, out of Polis.” Clarke is already running through scenarios in her head, evaluated who they might be able to trust and where they could go.

“Clarke, I cannot ask you,” Lexa begins, trying to sit up with a shaky arm holding her weight.

“Octavia will help, if we tell her what’s going on. Maybe if we can get you to my mom, she can figure out what Ontari did.” Clarke turns away and busies herself with bundling together all their gear, tucking in extra bandages. “We can’t really go to Arkadia, but-“

“They’d kill me as soon as look at me?” Clarke looks back sharply at the words to see Lexa sitting up with a faintly amused smirk, hand holding onto the back of her neck.

Rolling her eyes, Clarke retorts, “There you go again, always talking about your death.” But she cannot help the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, and Lexa knows it.

Then it hits her, somewhere they can escape to, at least temporarily. “The dropship. We can go to the dropship.”

Lexa’s brow furrows as she thinks, weighing the options, not that there are many. “There’s a passage behind the curtain in the next room that leads to the tunnels beneath the city.”

“There are tunnels beneath the city?” Clarke asks before shaking her head. She stuffs their gear into a bag and slings it over her shoulders. Then she moves back to kneel at Lexa’s side. “We will get through this.” Her voice is firmer than she expected and she can see a bit of that familiar steel re-enter Lexa’s spine.

Lexa looks at her silently, then states, plainly and openly, “I love you.”

Clarke blinks.

“We could have died, and I just wished that I had told you, so I did.” Lexa is blushing faintly, her eyes skittering from Clarke’s gaze.

“Now is so not the time for this,” Clarke says, and Lexa’s jaw flexes slightly. “But I love you too, Lexa.” She leans forward and brushes a soft kiss against Lexa’s mouth, she can feel Lexa’s sigh of relief against her lips.

Then she settles back on her heels, slips an arm under Lexa’s shoulder for support, and stands up. Clarke reaches out to knock lightly on the wall, indicating to Indra and Octavia that they’re ready to leave. The curtain is pulled back and the darkness of the tunnels awaits them.

They have a long way to travel yet.

**Author's Note:**

> The Trigedasleng translates roughly to "Stop fighting or I'll cut your lover" which isn't much of a sentence, but oh well.


End file.
